Gravity
by akasha-d
Summary: When all they could do was watch when one of them shattered under the pressure of pretending normalcy; it was a shared knowledge that they were not alone. And some days that was enough.  On days when it wasn't, they told themselves that it was.
1. Chapter 1

**The Shadow of You**

A/N

This is meant to be a **continuation of my previous story In The Bitterness**. I highly recommend that you read it before you start this one.

I have decided to separate it out from the original story mostly because my writing style has changed significantly since then and that it needs to be weighed to an extent solely on its own merit.

I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Its not mine.

* * *

Kamitari stood by his desk and contemplated ripping out his beautiful dark hair from the roots and stuffing it right back into his ears.

All morning his bloody telephone had been ringing off the hook. The two culprits were a one night stand gone wrong and a so called artist who didn't understand the meaning of the word was only so much stress a good looking agent could take before the frown lines started to become permanent.

Gabbing the phone with his perfectly manicured nails, Kamitari did what came naturally to him. He hit it where it hurt.

"Listen up here you nutbag. If you don't stop annoying the fuck out of me I will be forced to inform everyone I know that your feet smell, you are hung like a baby carrot and hump like a blind, deranged, rhino. Am I making myself very clear, or do I need to go down to smaller words for you?" Kamitari refused to raise his voice beyond its normal timber, but anyone who knew him, recognized the deliberate way he pronounced his words as a death threat.

"…I think that's a little too much info there Tari." That voice was anything but expected.

Kamitari's well built up ire deflated, the instant he registered that unique voice. In its place different kind of ire bubbled up.

He took a moment to let the recognition wash over him, before returning to planet earth.

"I demand at least 21 roses and a card delivered to my desk by this time tomorrow." Kamitari monotoned. He glanced briefly at his nail polish to see if there were any chips on the bright violet paint. On the outside he was cool and collected. On the inside he was stuck between jumping up and down for joy and throwing the phone out of the window.

The average person would be terrified of the way he went from one extreme emotion the next without so much as wincing. It was one of the reasons why this particular caller and he were friends at all. They functioned at the same frequency.

"Err Tari, I think you've got me mixed up with someone else. I'm Makimachi Misao, we went to university together?"

Kamitari rolled his eyes, "I know exactly who you are Mi-Chan. But I am going to need those roses to forgive you for your neglect of me for all this time. A gal needs her TLC, and you up and disappeared without so much as a goodbye. I deserve some compensation don't you think?"

Kamitari's secretary turned looked up from her paperwork strewn desk and frowned at him. Mrs Lipzwich, the living embodiment of propriety, prized silence above all else. It was a great universal injustice that her boss was the loudest thing in the country, most days.

Kamitari gave an exaggerated wink to his secretary who looked positively scandalized.

"Do you know how hard it is to find a decent girlfriend in this town?" Kamitari continued without a pause, "Its like a bimbo convention all year round! Every girl is all 'oh my gosh isn't he so hot, or am I getting fat, or point me to the nearest toilet I need to go puke out my dinner', after a while it kills a gals appetite,"

There was a weak chuckle on the other end of the line. "I'll give you the roses just to put a stop to the details of your not so stellar evening with Mr. carrot-who-humps-like-a-rhino."

Kamitari twitched and gritted his teeth at the memory. "Don't put it that way. You make it sound like I was fucked by a vegetable while fantasizing about a 200 pound mammal. Even I have standards darling, and Mr. Carrot fell far, far blow them."

Mrs Lipzwich was fast gaining a coloring of a ripe, juicy tomato. Kamitari grandly stuck his tongue out at the frowning woman and wiggled. The tick on Mrs Lipzwich's eyebrow was a thing of beauty.

"I did warn you that flirting with random men who may or may not be gay might not the best way to get laid. Did he freak out when you stripped or did he try to get a grope in and find an empty padded bra?" Misao asked.

"Darling," Kamitari threw himself into her large padded leather chair and thrust both feet onto his large office table, "you know that a straight man is only straight because he's far too dull to be gay. I give all those stiffs out there a chance to live life on the fun side! Nothing wrong with that. I now only go for men who swing my way, so his lack of prowess in the bedroom was not brought on by shock."

At her desk, Mrs Lipzwich twitched. She was very much aware of what important documents were currently receiving the not so tender ministrations of her bosses' feet. She also had no desire to know what her transvestite boss did in his spare time. As far as she was concerned life was paperwork, tea and the odd afternoon nap.

The sound of chuckling came again from the phone. "Why am I not surprised that you haven't changed an inch?" Misao asked.

"That's because you know me that well darling. And speaking of stiffs, I take it that our icicle is not in the area at the moment or I wouldn't be having this delightful conversation with you. I keep telling you babe, keep an eye on the repressed ones. They are the ones that go nuts, wax their legs and suddenly become violent drag queens with a thing for leather. Trust me I _know_. "

"…something like that. Though I think the stick up his ass is a little too thick for him to unbend like that."

Kamitari took notice of the pause. People were his business. When you worked as an art agent, you learnt to pick up on small hints and squeeze a story out of it.

"Ooh, trouble in paradise is it? Come tell mama-Tari all about it" Kamitari cooed falling right back into their groove of friendship without skipping a beat. She had missed this connection for so very long. The feeling of having someone who was able to have a full fledged conversation without asking him to explain himself was like getting high on something dangerous. And just as addictive.

There was the sound of a sigh, followed by shuffling. "I don't really want to talk about it. Let's just say you were right all along and that he was an arse-head and leave it at that."

"Bollox!" Kamitari slammed his fist onto the table, "Darling, if there is anything you need, it is to talk. Are you still in K-? We can meet up in this delightful place I know that serves the best chocolate Sundays. We can sit down and gripe about men and how they are all arse-heads, just like old times."

There was a pause for a moment as Misao thought over the offer. "Yea I am still here, but you don't have to go through all the trouble. I just wanted to call to catch up, really. I know you'll be at work and I don't wanna bug that. This was just meant to be a short chat to let you know that I'm not dead.

Kamitari snorted inelegantly, if there was anything that the girl needed, it was a debriefing session that involved chocolate. "Shut up now. For me it will be a working visit. I need to know how many canvases you want and in what sizes you want them in. Think of it as a working tea, if it makes you feel any better."

"C-canvases? Tari, we have gone over this a thousand times. I don't paint anymore!-"

"Oh no, you don't! This is the perfect time for you to pick it up again. Think of all that untapped rage floating about in you. I will have all that on canvas and you will be my artist, so help me god. What are you waiting for anyway? I know the moron you were dating couldn't tell the difference between good art and his left elbow. This is the perfect chance for you to rub just how amazing you are in his face!"

"Tari I am out of practice, I'm not even sure I can paint anymore!"

"Its like riding a bicycle babe, I'm sure you'll be back to your old standard in no time! So I'll see you in say, an hour, at the corner of Moffems and Pine? There is a desert shop there that makes the most heavenly chocolate cake."

Misao mumbled something unflattering about the thickness of Kamitari's scull, but Kamitari ignored most of it with practiced ease." Ok, I'll come. But I'm only there to meet up an old friend, not to sign up an agent. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly darling, simply crystal clear." Kamitari ruffled through his desk looking for his sheet of contracts. They were generic reprints that was used in all agent-artist relationships, unless specified otherwise by the artist. He always kept a few of them on his desk for situations like these.

"I am serious Tari!."

Success! Kamitari pulled out a slightly rumpled sheet of paper that was yet to be signed or doodled on, and would do nicely. "So am I babe, so am I. So see you in an hour, unless you have a more convenient time in mind?"

Misao sighed into her phone once again. "No, an hour is fine. Sometimes I swear Tari-kun, you are like a pit bull when it comes to something you want."

Kamitari threw his head back and laughed. "Darling, if there is something out there that I want, I get it. It's just that simple. And more often than not, what I want ends up calling me God when I do the thing with my—"

"STOP! Too Much Information!" Misao interjected before further details could slip out "I'll see you in an hour. And please refrain from telling me sordid details of your love life. I am traumatized enough, thank you very much."

"You spoiled the best part! Fine I'll see you in an hour, but no promises about my choice of conversation topics. Cheers babe!" Kamitari ended the call with a flourish and turned to look at his secretary who was in turn trying her best to look like she was not eavesdropping.

"Well Litz, it seems like we are going to sign in the hottest young thing on the market! Crank out the bubbly!"

"No." Mrs. Litz did not bother to tear her eyes away from whatever it was that she was pretending to read, "You strip when you are drunk. I enjoy my eyesight too much to have to gouge my eyeballs out with my letter opener, should you decide to do the 'nude tango' again. You will not drink alcohol in the office, or anywhere near my paperwork. Are we clear?"

Kamitari pouted. "You are just no fun Litz.! You should unbend a little!"

"I do have fun." Mrs Litz answered. "So long, as it is only at your expense and nowhere near my paperwork. Now please get back to work Ms Kamitari. You only need half an hour to get to the bakery and till then you are expected to get your work done."

"NO FUN!"

* * *

There was a point, Kaoru thought, that the human body could no longer function under the influence of pain. It was a point beyond tears.

One single moment where the mind says enough, fuck this shit, I don't want this anymore. And all that pain, all that crippling burning throbbing pain, just faded away to a white nothing.

All you had to do was stop thinking.

Eventually you would stop blinking.

Ultimately you would stop breathing.

God was kind that way, she hoped.

Curled up into a fetal position on her overly large bed, Kaoru stared blankly at the white underside of her perfectly cream comforter. She could count every thread that made up the blanket. So it must be morning, she thought, because you couldn't see the threads at night. At night all you would see was shadows where the streetlight couldn't penetrate the cotton.

Who needed clocks?

Or daylight.

Or air.

The human body definitely didn't need all that rubbish. All it really needed was a soft place to rest and melt down into a single thread, in a perfectly cream comforter.

How free.

Kaoru giggled. So this is what it felt like to be unhinged. It was quite liberating, really. She should have done it years ago. All those sane people had no idea what they were missing out on. It was like flying without the takeoff.

Kaoru shuffled around so that her back faced her blanket and her cheek rested on her overly flat pillow. Her pillow smelt like unwashed hair. She idly wondered about when she last washed her hair. Would it be too much trouble to go do it again? Or would she rather go for the clean shaven look that seemed to be so popular with asylums now days?

She hated long hair.

She hated red hair.

She hated long red hair.

STOP.

Don't go there.

You don't want to go there.

Don't think, don't think. Thinking hurts. You hurt enough, a voice reminded her. She nodded.

Perhaps a nice clean shave is in order.

Eventually. But for now, the world was her blanket.

"Good morning sunshine!"

A swift tug by alien hands, and her world was pulled away.

Kaoru mewed into her pillow at the sudden bright intrusion of unfiltered sunlight. This shouldn't be happening. The world was her blanket. She shouldn't have to move from her world, because it was hers god damn it!

"Rise and shine!" another voice chimed in. "It's a new day, which means you have a new project!"

No it wasn't. It was still yesterday in her blanket. It could be whatever time she wanted it to be in her blanket.

Kaoru was making a stand, or a lie in to be more specific.

"Oh dear Misao, it looks like Kaoru doesn't want to wake up! Whatever shall we do?" The first voice vocalized in the most condescending way imaginable.

"Well Megumi, I have an idea, but I don't think she will like it…" The second voice chimed in, if possible, even more condescendingly.

"I suppose we have no choice now do we. Let her have it then." The first voice ordered.

"Don't say we didn't warn you."

Kaoru didn't have the time to register what happened. One minute she was cuddled up with her pillow, and the next she was sitting up wide eyed and gasping.

Misao's cheerful face was the first thing that greeted her wide eyes. The young woman's hands were still gripping the damp bucket and it was notably empty of its liquid contents.

Around Kaoru her sheets were soaked with water that probably came directly from the artic circle form the feel of it.

"Wh-What?" Kaoru mumbled, still trying to get up to speed.

"How nice of you to join us," Megumi chimed from the other side of Kaoru's very wet bed, "now that we have your attention, it is time to get your ass out of bed and off into the shower. I don't know how you are living with yourself right now. I could smell you all the way from the front door."

"B-but." Kaoru tried to cut in, but her shivering was coupling up with her frazzled brain to make clear thought impossible.

"No need to thank us. We're just doing a community service. What have you been doing to your hair? I must tell you it looks like a bee hive tried to mate with a poodle and failed spectacularly. Smells just as bad too." Megumi briskly folded the comforter in her grip and refused to meet Kaoru's gaze.

This was all business.

"Now that you're somewhat awake, you may congratulate Misao on her success." Megumi continued, and dumped the folded comforter on a nearby chair that was out of Kaoru's immediate reach.

"Huh?" Kaoru looked back at Misao, who looked a little embarrassed and frazzled herself.

"There is nothing to congratulate. I was bullied into it completely against my will." She clarified.

"But that doesn't change the fact that it gives you something to do and room to grow, which is more than I can say for sleeping beauty here." Megumi crossed her arms and arched a delicate brow.

"W-wh-what?"

Misao rolled her eyes at Megumi. "I was bullied into signing a 6 canvas contract with one of my art agency friends from university. I was totally against it, but Kamitari always gets her way, no matter what she wants."

The name rang a bell in Kaoru's head. "K-Kamitari? The b-boy from u-uni?"

Misao shrugged. "He is a woman now. But he was always more woman than either of us anyway, so it hasn't changed him any. I think it seems to have made him worse. We need to get you out from these wet things before you shiver yourself to death."

"Yes, yes. We need to hurry up if we want to make Misao's appointment with the hairdresser. In fact I think I will go make a second appointment for Kaoru as well. That beehive on her head looks positively feral." Megumi poked the tangle of hair around Kaoru's shoulders as though she expected it to up and bite her back.

When the realization about the situation hit her fully, Kaoru felt all the blood from her body rush into a tiny ball of nausea in the pit of her stomach.

"I-I don't w-wan-want to go an-anywhere." She wasn't ready yet. She would never be ready for that. Would everyone know? Just by looking at her, would people be able to see a brand of some kind that marked her as a failed woman? No, she would never be ready for that.

Megumi and Misao shared a look between them that seemed to pass a thousand words.

It was Megumi who sighed first. She daintily sat down on the damp mattress, not minding her how wet her white skirt would get in the process.

"Kaoru," Megumi sighed, "it's been a week, not very long in the grand scheme of things, but nearly too long for this to be healthy. We're not asking you to forget anything, or even to be happy right now. Look at all three of us; can we really say we're over anything?" Megumi grabbed Kaoru's shoulders and shook her gently.

"But you know better than anyone, if you don't push yourself now, you're not going to be moving, ever. And it's the same for us. I need to do something right now because if I stay in these four walls nothing but thinking, I'm going personally re-enact what you planned to do in your bathroom more than one week ago."

When Megumi found the bath tub filled with then lukewarm water and the damming razor beside it, she released a triad of epic proportions over Kaoru and threatened to take her to the hospital immediately. It was only with vast amounts of begging that the visit was avoided. But Megumi never let her forget what nearly happened and made it a daily duty to keep a close eye on her younger friend.

Kaoru looked at her hands. She knew. Of course she knew. She was a physiotherapist. Helping people get back to as normal of a life as they could was her job. She saw this all the time with amputees. No matter how much of physio they did, there was no way they would get their arm or leg back. All they could do was compensate for that loss. There was no way to go back to the life they had before they lost that limb. And because of that impossibility, they more often than not didnt put in as much effort as they could into their therapy. It was far easier to say, I didn't really try, than say I tried and I failed.

A broken heart was much like a missing leg. It was something you had to grow around rather than fix.

"Just come with me Kaoru. Please. I don't want to do this by myself." Misao squeezed the end of her braid with both hands nervously. "I haven't cut my hair since I was 16 years old because he said he liked it long. It is heavy and annoying. I think I want to see if there is someone else inside of me I need to meet. And I really want my sister to be there with me when I see her." Misao gave a sad, watery, smile.

If the three of them were anything, they were sisters. Blood or no blood, limb or no limb.

That night on the front lawn, when the three of them met up and held each other together was the night that three lives were saved.

If she couldn't do it for herself, at the very least she could do it for them.

Kaoru sniffed balefully. "Ok. B-but nothing too open ok? I-I don't w-want t-to see to-too many pe-people."

Megumi smiled. "That is perfectly fine." She got up and pulled Kaoru up with her, "Lets get you cleaned up and ready for our little walkabout."

"Look out world! We're on our way back." Misao cheered as she pumped her fist into the air. Her eyes were still suspiciously shiny, but at least they were now partly happy instead of totally dead.

Kaoru felt the first tinges of what might eventually become a smile.

* * *

Sitting in her car in the parking lot of her hospital, Megumi slammed her palm on the steering wheel. In her trembling hand, her tiny hand phone still displayed the message she received only minutes earlier.

**SnO in HosP. He passed out b4 a gig. Docs suspect OD. Stable now. Doc's are sobering him up. Don't come. SnO orders. Sry. **

**Ktzu**

No matter how she gasped, she still couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

He didn't want her with him anymore. He was sick, hurting, and probably dying for all she knew, and he didn't want her with him.

The realizations hit her like several sucker punches to the gut.

He chose his drugs over her.

Megumi clenched her eyes shut as a weak attempt to stall the tears that were already gathering.

Logically, Megumi knew she did what she did to help him, but part of her was terrified that she had only succeeded in pushing him deeper into the pit he was falling into.

She had worked herself into the ground the last week to exorcize that worry.

She spent more time in the hospital that was strictly legal, put in more hours than any other doctor on staff, pushed herself further that was sane. Manic work was a way to get though all the unnecessary clutter in her head.

Every time the vague whisper of worry floated by, Megumi pushed herself even harder into whatever surgery she was doing. She focused intensely on the smallest detail, the tiniest changes, driving her workmates up the wall in the process when they failed to reach her stellar standards. She focused on anything but her thoughts.

With a scalpel in her hand and death staring her in the face; it made relationship problems seem like child's play.

It was her supervisor, the ever vigilant Dr Gensai, who noticed the trend and finally put a stop to it. He had quietly asked her to his office and then proceeded to give her an ultimatum. Either she took four days of forced leave or he had her delivered to the psych ward.

She chose to take the holiday.

And Sano now was in hospital.

Megumi rested her head on the steering wheel and took deep calming breaths through the sobs that were choking her. Without work to block out everything else, she felt like she was drowning in her own regrets.

Regrets about her past, regrets about Sano intertwining with the lingering regrets she had about her mother.

Megumi was often called a woman of secrets. Sano joked that if she were an onion, he would have to peel each layer for the rest of his life to get to her core. Sano had no idea how true that was.

Since they first met, it took Sano six months to find out that Megumi was in university on a full scholarship. It took him a full year to hear that she had never known her father. It took him two years after that to find out that her mother died when she was fourteen

But even with Sano, there were some things in her life she was never going to share. She simply was not built that way. Sano only ever tried to ask once about her mother, and when she refused to answer, he never asked again.

Perhaps things would have been much easier for her now, if she had answered him back then. Perhaps things would have never gone this far if he knew what she had seen growing up.

But regrets never solved anything. Regrets killed her mother. But Megumi would be dammed if it killed her too.

Or Sano.

In her mind, a chaos flickered images and regrets merged into one great shifting ball of memory.

Megumi braced herself.

She forced herself into the moment she held that packet of white powder and listened to Katsu's chilling explanation.

In sepia, she remembered finding that same fine powder as a child. It was hidden in the green tea tin that her mother kept in the third cupboard, on the highest shelf. She had thought it was a special kind of sugar that little girls were not allowed to take.

Megumi forced herself to relive the texture of the puckered skin on the crook of Sano's elbow. She pushed through the moment she recognized exactly what was revisiting her life. She felt again the sinking, stabbing, feeling it brought to her chest.

She flashed back, to a skinny pale arm, with fine blue veins and the very same puckered red scars, stretched out invitingly to her.

She forced herself to re-look into the memory of Sano's honey brown pupils, dilated to the extreme. She re-heard the increased rate of speech, the flickering of the eyes from one corner to the other like a manic butterfly.

Megumi saw maroon eyes, identical to her own, staring out unblinking and dull from the doorway of a filthy bathroom. She heard the voice of a woman who talked to fairies and ghosts as she ran in circles on the lawn swatting away at bugs under her skin.

Each memory, old and new, refreshed things she had tried her best to forget.

The memory of a woman with glazed maroon eyes, and skin that hung loose on a face that might have once been pretty. A mother, who said she was a chemist, but in reality worked in a meth lab that gave her a cut of the produce as payment.

A thin, frail woman, whose hand shook so badly that she couldn't even shoot up her own drugs anymore; A mother, who had handed a syringe to her eight year old daughter, and then calmly told her exactly how to play with this new toy.

Megumi remembered that the plastic needle had felt overly large in her inexperienced hand. She remembered how her mother had praised her as the older woman collapsed with euphoria in bed.

She remembered thinking that something was very wrong with what her mother asked her to do. The same thing Sano had asked her to do by ignoring what was fast becoming his own personal addiction. Ignoring something was just as bad as contributing to it.

She forced herself to relive his reality. And the reality he would have continued down if she didn't at least try to do something. A reality she had already lived through once before.

When Megumi slowly returned to the present, she became aware that the tears had dried into sticky streaks on her cheeks. She didn't know how long she had sat in her car seat, but she felt stiff and bone weary.

Hours, days maybe even lifetimes. But it didn't matter now, because Sano was gone and there was nothing she could do to change that.

No.

No, Sano was still here. Sano was still alive. She could still save him.

With a shaking hand Megumi tugged down her rear view mirror so that it reflected her face in its entirety. She looked at herself with the same sharp pointed look she would have used to analyze the face of a patient that was lying about their medical history.

It was in this position that she was as honest as humanly possible with herself.

She looked at her options. She could abide by her original oath. An oath that she took because she thought it would save his life. Could she live with herself if she left him now? Leave him by himself because he had an addiction that destroyed her life once before?

No.

She couldn't.

Because she loved him.

And she would fight for him. Fight for him the way she should have fought for her mother. Fight for him and with him, even if he didn't want her there with him.

This mantra, this dialog between what she called her 'inner computer' and real self did the trick. Slowly she watched he pupils dilate, her face soften, her brows even out. She watched this shattered woman pull herself back into some semblance of a real person.

Once she felt centered, or as centered as she could be, Megumi sat up and fixed her makeup. Makeup was the best shield a woman had, and Megumi wanted to go in with both guns blazing.

There were only two hospitals that Sano would ever willingly go to, his dislike of medical institutions was an open secret. Since he clearly wasn't here, it only left one other option open.

As she slid her car into gear, Megumi prayed to any God listening that she could get through to him.

If only this once.

* * *

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

The last few months have been very difficult for me. I've had to give up a dearly held dream for the practicalities of 'real life'. The only thing that I've always enjoyed was seeing someone read my work and get so into it that they lose themselves in the words. As of now, I fear that the only way I will ever be able to enjoy this anymore is through .

I am not very good with conveying emotions, particularly expressive or depressive ones. This story was essentially my attempt to refine my technique and to see if I really could touch the hearts of my readers (which has always, always been my goal).

A whopping thank you to Anna**, Jasmine blossom625, silent canary, WaterInk, Jester's pet oriole, Ayala 27, SoraNoMiko** and finally to my beloved **JMai **for reviewing.

Your reviews mean the world to me and I treasure them dearly; Every single one of them. Because they tell me that somewhere out there in the wide web someone stopped their lives for those few minutes to read my work. Nothing in the world could please me more. Nothing at all.

* * *

**Gravity**: Rolling In The Deep

Anji was widely recognized as the best psychiatric nurse in the state. His calm, nearly meditative demeanour was able to sooth even the most violent patients, if not by talking them down, then by physically holding them down with his larger than life physique.

For all his experience, his medical expertise was the last thing on Megumi's mind when she finally buckled down and called him.

The last she heard, Anji worked in St Patricks Hospital; the very same hospital, bore the lone stamp of Sano's hospital phobic approval. Anji was also one of the few people in the world who could possibly understand why she was going to have to rip through virtually every rule ever written about hospital security and patient confidentiality.

It didn't take long to arrange a meeting. Once past that, it took a long, long explanation, more than a few questions and a small photograph of the both of them that Megumi carried in her wallet, but eventually Anji believed her.

More than that, he was willing to help.

The towering man balefully handed over an I.D badge as Megumi put on the hastily grabbed lab coat. "Dr. Lorenna is a new intern. She's a good girl, smart but a little absent minded. If you get caught, say that you grabbed the tag with the coat from the laundry bin. She always forgets to unpin it."

Megumi nodded as she memorised the details on the card before pinning it on. "Where would he most likely be right now?"

The large man thought for a moment before answering. "He should be on the first floor in the ICU, Mary, a nurse there, said there was a bit of a security worry about one of the new patients, so they had to put him in the back. That would be bed 6 if I'm not mistaken. "

Megumi nodded again looking at the pale, terrified looking woman in the wall mounted mirror and suddenly felt hopeless. There was no way in hell this would work.

"If the nurses ask who sent you, say Dr Brendler. Real old school physician type, the man kicks up a fuss if he feels that his authority is being questioned; Gives all the nurses hell. They won't dare keep you back, and more importantly they won't ask any questions."

Megumi closed her eyes and took a deep, deep breath. This would work. It would work because she would make it work.

A large hand clamped itself on her shoulder and Megumi met Anji's deep set eyes through the mirror.

"Don't worry Megumi. You're doing the right thing."

Megumi reached up and patted the hand gratefully. "Thank you. He means more to me than anything in my life."

He smiled, flashing the deep crow's feet carved on the edges of his eyes. "Then, that is precisely why you will succeed."

* * *

Still half groggy and more than a little murderous, Misao stared at the brown, squarish, utterly unimpressive building and cursed out Kamitari under her breath before tracking her way to the brushed steel doors.

Only two days after signing a contract (modified twice to suit her specific needs— in essence NOT being a full body slave to Kamitari's evil machinations—thanks in part to passing knowledge assimilated from the lips of Aoshi) Misao was introduced to the full extent of her devious friend's plotting.

"Oh come on Misao, help out an old buddy. It's just a simple album cover-art contract." Kamitari voice whined, overloud even with the buffer of two telephones.

"You called me up at fucking six am. Drop dead."

"I'll make it worth your while."

"Yes, by dropping dead."

"So Yes it is then. Excellent! I'll have a car sent around in 15 minutes. And do take the time to braid up your hair properly dear. He is one of the more consistent producers that I know of. He deserves not to be choked to death by the hemp rope you have masquerading as hair. Love you darling!"

The beep of a terminated conversation took a few seconds to process and Misao lovingly responded by flinging her phone across the room where it landed harmlessly on a pile of her laundry. She cursed out Kamitari till she was about blue in the face. The only thing that finally got her out of bed was the gleeful notion that Kamitari had forgotten a clause in her contract that demanded 'reasonable notice' before being hauled off to do a side job. She would make him pay.

Oh yes he would PAY.

Getting ready had taken far, far less time with a good 1.5 meters less hair and she had no problem catching the car, which turned out to be a rather cute mini cooper with an even cuter driver.

Leave it to Kamitari to take care of such specifics.

It didn't change the fact that the so called studio was in a highly dubious building. Once she got past those dented doors, she came face to face with a humongous man who very gently asked her who she was and what the hell did she think she was doing here.

As soon as she had given him her name, watching his eyes widen with terror at the mention of Kamitari, he ushered her past some dimly lit hallways into what was clearly a very well furnished, clean and brightly lit high tech studio. Catching sight of some of the equipment, Misao found her eyebrow's sneaking up to her hairline. Whoever ran this place, probably had money leaking out of their ears.

"I hope you don't mind waiting in the sound booth. We just got some news that an artist of ours has come down with some medical emergency and Boss-man might be running a little behind. He is real picky of who is left unattended with the fiddly stuff and its worth more than my life to piss him off." The man indicated the somewhat convoluted arrangement of knobs, sliders, buttons and screens around the room.

That was how Misao found herself sitting in a room with wall to wall carpeting and the most beautiful baby grand piano she had the pleasure to drool over.

She managed to control herself for all of five minutes.

Seating herself on the bench, Misao ran a slim finger over the notes. Not pressing down yet, just touching the smooth, glassy keys. She didn't know how to play per-se. But after three years of university life with more than a few talented friends studying under the music faculty, Misao had one or two songs perfectly bashed into her head.

Placing her fingers over the keys Misao haltingly played a very simple rendition of marry had a little lamb, her fingers getting stronger and faster with each repetition.

Biting her lip, Misao glanced around, making sure that she was alone before trying out some cords that still lingered in her head to a song she used to love to sing along to.

Then softly, nearly under her breath Misao began to sing. "There's a fire, starting in my heart. Reaching a fever pitch and its bringing me out the dark. Finally, I can see you crystal clear. Go ahead and sound me out as I lay your ship babe."

It was like being back in university again. With her eyes shut, Misao sang along, her memory going through the faces of people she knew back then leaning around the piano, laughing and making fun of her as they always did whenever she sang. Kamitari was right in front, making faces at her every time she tried to his the high notes and failed.

A sudden itch between her shoulder blades brought her back from the lovely memory and she drew her hands up from the keys as though they were on fire.

Standing by the open doorway was a young man. He wasn't very much taller than her, but the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head hinted that self esteem issues were something that happened strictly to other people. His dark brown hair was neatly cut and the smile on his face was stretching the sanity barrier without crossing over into manic glee by only a slim margin.

He also had that cold calculating gleam in his eye that made the hair at the back of her neck stand to attention. Kamitari had that look two days before setting the shoes of one of his lecturers on fire—without getting caught.

"A little shaky with the instrument, vocals are acceptable, phenomenal feeling though. And really, in this day and age that's all you need." He tapped a slim finger against his lips contemplatively.

"I think I'll take you." His voice was smooth, pitch perfect and light as a feather without the fruity implications.

It also fell through like a ton of bricks.

"Excuse me?" Kamitari wouldn't have sent her in for some human trafficking thing, would he? At least not without SOME form of warning, they had a contract running after all.

"You're one of Kamitari's, arn't you?"

Misao swallowed, feeling like a child with her hand in the cookie jar, she nodded.

"Tell him I'll buy out your contract and whatever exorbitant fee he wants for you."

When she finally figured it out, Misao wanted to giggle. "Oh, no no no. I'm not a musician. Kamitari asked me talk to you about some album artwork you were thinking about having commissioned?"

He raised a fine brow. "You mean you're just a visual artist? No musical training at all?"

"Yes." Misao tried not to prickle at the 'just'. What was it with people putting down the arts. Honestly!

The smirk on his face slid happily into the demented category. "Oh, I think we can change that quite easily." He stepped into the room and put his hand in an introductory handshake.

"I'm Soujiro, and I'm going to make you a star."

* * *

"Are you entirely stupid Princess? When I tell you to duck, you duck. If the Brat had put any proper force behind those blows your granbabies were gonna' have to eat their steak through a straw."

Having Saito's ugly mug doing a running commentary from outside the boxing ring was not the most conductive thing in the world for concentration. A weaker person would have complained. Kaoru just gritted her teeth, and brushed away some sweat with her forearm and raised her gloves again. It was only a light graze to the head, it just made her a little dizzy, nothing she couldn't work through. Pansy pain as Saito put it.

Finished talking in her general direction, Saito began cutting down at her opponent, who gave him just as much attention as she did. You could count on Yahiko to show utter disregard to authority.

Nearly three months ago, after having a shit day at work thanks mostly to the condescension laced pity from her less than stellar workmates, Kaoru had wanted to hit something. Hard. So when the bus had stopped at a red light that gave her just the tiniest hint of an old school gym with a boxing ring as a key feature, she virtually jumped out of the window.

Fitness First, it was not. Cement floored, tin walled with battered looking equipment, it had a rough and gritty approach to fitness with an overreaching theme of hitting something till it broke. The few people that were there were not exactly your regulars at the yacht club either. Biker bar, maybe.

When she had walked into this large ramshackle warehouse cum community gym requesting membership, the scrawny, smoking man at the lone battered table—later named Saito— had gracefully informed her that weight watchers was two streets down and he refused to have little girls in his gym who wanted to play at boxing.

Annoyed to the point of steaming _before_ he opened his mouth, his words virtually set her hair on fire. Seeing red, she had kicked a chair so hard that it shattered against the desk, and then asked him, politely, for a membership form.

At least one of the other guys in the room applauded.

Saito had just looked her in the eye and shrugged and promised her that he would give her hell every single day she dared set foot into his gym. She signed the waver with a feral grin and gleefully told him that she'd see him tomorrow.

He kept his promise and then some. But for some reason neither of them could fathom, she kept coming back.

Two weeks in and he began hissing out orders from across the floor about her gorilla-like lack of grace and utter ineptitude in technique against the boxing bag, before caving in and actually instructing her.

He didn't say anything specific, but she figured his new 'personal interest' in her boxing training was some sort of dude grudging sign of respect. Or perhaps a sign that he hated her guts. You could never tell with Saito.

Her first impression about the other patrons both was and wasn't accurate. They were all, with the sole exception of her and one other boy, big burly men. Some of them were ex-cons, but to her surprise there were more than a few cops, nurses, engineers and even the faintest whisper of a hot shot lawyer in attendance. Most of them could lift her full body weight with one arm. Literally.

Which made finding a boxing partner next to impossible before Saito caved and hooked her up with Yahiko also known as The Brat. He was 15, in her weight category and had all the amicable temperament of a spitting camel. She figured that he sort of liked her too.

It seemed that there was a universal rule that whoever you were outside, you left it at the doors of the gym, names included. After her little display the first day, the men had bequeathed her the wonderful nickname of Princess. After hearing the eloquent titles of 'Troll Brains' and 'Foot Face' Kaoru couldn't bring herself to complain.

Yahiko and her both lasted for about fifteen minutes more before Saito pulled them out of the ring in disgust.

Yahiko flexed his shoulders muttering all the while under his breath about stupid smoking grasshoppers and girls who wouldn't know a punch even if it nailed her between the eyes. As he moved, his shirt rode up revealing a small puckered collection of what looked like burn marks.

Red flags immediately went up in her head.

She had a patient once who had the same exact thing. Only she was in therapy to regain full movement after fracturing her hip when her abusive husband beat her up and then threw her down a flight of stairs. Her entire back was peppered with the scars. She had drily informed Kaoru that 'the fucker needed an ashtray'.

The marks on Yahiko were all healed over, but some small pieces of information started to stick out.

Most boys his age were a gangly collection of limbs only barely held together by their skin. Yahiko moved like a feral cat. Always aware with limbs tight up and seeming prepared to flee, or curse out, on the slightest inclination. Most teenage boys always looked like breath away from chronic starvation. Looking at Yahiko, she'd always known that he was lanky, but beyond the bluster and baggy clothing the boy was actually thin. Painfully so.

"Whatcha looking at Ugly?"

Blinking, Kaoru shook away her thoughts. It was all conjecture, built from what could possibly be scarring from a violent bout of chicken pox.

"Nothing brat, just wondering if you knew how to cook. You're so thin I could use your tiny ass as floss."

Just like a wet cat, Kaoru could actually see him prickling up. Yahiko baiting was probably the most fun she had in years.

"Not everyone wants to be a fat ass like you Ugly! Of course I can cook! I've _only _been doing it since I was a kid. I can kick your ass in the kitchen any day."

Kaoru snorted but took careful mental note about the kid comment. She didn't know many children who could cook. Heck, she hardly new any adults who could cook. Misao couldn't be trusted near an open fire and Megumi complained that she cut up people on a daily basis and couldn't be expected to cut up plants and animals as well.

Slowly, an idea began to brew. But she had to be careful. If there was anything she learnt from beating the living tar, and having it beaten out of her in return, by Yahiko, it was that the boy was proud.

"How good are you?"

Yahiko glared, shooting sharpened steel from his eyes. "What's it to you?"

"Well," Kaoru started, stretching out the pause by patting her sweat off, "I can't cook worth shit and neither can my housemates. I was just wondering if you might know someone who might need the extra cash in exchanged for non-charred home cooked food. No professional chefs please, even my budget has limits."

Come on little fishy, the bait is out there.

Yahiko shifted, looking decidedly uncomfortable but there was a sharp gleam of interest in his eyes. "What sort of food are you looking for?"

Kaoru shrugged, and tried to look as casual as possible. "Normal stuff I guess. A bit of asian cooking would be good too but not essential."

The boy looked highly suspicious. "How often would you need someone over? And what about the ingredients?"

Caught you now!

"Well. Everyday would be best, but we could survive with once every three days or so. Of course I'll get the ingredients for you. But I warn you you'll have to do the fruit and veg picking yourself, I still can't tell the difference between cabbages and lettuce. "

Yahiko's face was a picture of disgust and then for a split second his face broke into a look of nervousness before steeling up into its normal bratty default. "I _could_ do it everyday after school I guess. But I'm not too sure about transport and such."

Kaoru smirked. "Well Brat, far be it from me to impinge upon your education. I tell you what, I'll see if I can get Meg or Misao to pick you up from school on days you don't rock up to the gym? On days you do I can pick you up from here."

He raised a brow. "You guys must really, really suck eh. To go through so much trouble?" He sounded suspicious. At the first hint of pity she knew he had no qualms about hauling off and hitting her with a punch.

"Kid, you REALLY have no idea."

Which was nothing more than god's honest truth anyway.

* * *

Megumi was torn between being elated and appalled at the lack of security in this medical facility.

Getting through the main foyer was no problem, with only one security guard taking a passing glance at her badge to confirm that it existed. Her journey down to the ICU was spiked with only a swift shift down a hallway to dodge Katsu who was yelling into his phone and seemingly quite harassed. It would give her a few minutes, but she didn't expect to need much more. The ICU was designed after an open plan with the Nurses station being the first thing she came to. Behind them were ten or so curtained alcoves with individual beds.

The ICU nurses were blessedly suspicious though, until she took Anji's advice and casually dropped Dr. Brendler's name. The nurses backed off fast enough to cause whiplash. They shot her dirty looks as she walked away. Megumi mentally apologised. She maintained a good relationship with the nursing staff in her own workplace, but this was an emergency.

Reaching the last curtained bed, Megumi took a deep breath and mentally ran through the logical list of what he would look like and what machines he would be attached to. Holding that image in the forefront of her mind, she pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the alcove and carefully pulled it shut again before looking at the figure in the bed. She had to press her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that wanted desperately to escape when she processed what she saw.

Her mental image was accurate, insomuch as it could be when faced with a patient that you didn't really know. He was on a drip and a heart monitor. But what hit her the hardest was how pale and still Sano was, tucked in tightly up to his chest under the standard issue covers. His face was pinched, there were bags under his eyes and even his gravity defying hair hung limp and straw like against his temples. Sano at his best never stopped moving. Even while sleeping, he was restless. This pale, matchstick man was both a stranger and the centre of her world.

One hand reached out to brush lightly at his clenched hand even as the other one grasped the clipboard attached to the end of his bed. Curving her hands around Sano's fist, Megumi read through the chart, releasing her grip on his hand to flip the page when the readings didn't make sense to her.

Katsu said OD. The symptoms seconded it; Seizures, cold sweats and low blood pressure. But the blood work readings said nothing of the sort. With a shaking hand, Megumi returned the clipboard to its holster.

With both hands she clenched his one fist, she bit her lip bloody as she suppressed the sobs that wanted to escape her. Her eyes misted over and the tears just ran out wild.

Sano wasn't suffering from an overdose. He was suffering from the side effects of chronic withdrawal.

"What the hell are ya' doin here?"

Katsu stood at the curtained entrance with one hand clenched in the fabric and a look of sheer panic painted red across his face.

"Withdrawal? He is suffering from withdrawal? Why the hell didn't you tell me that?" Megumi hissed, still very aware of her precarious position as far as the hospital security was concerned. "For the love of god Katsu, when you told me he OD'd I thought he was on deaths fucking door!"

With a nervous glance at Sano's still unconscious form Katsu shifted from one foot to another, his long hair shifting with him. "I'll tell ya' all about it. But we have to get outta here first. He can't see you in here. He'll go ape-shit. The detox is hittin' him real hard, so far the only thing keepin' him up is the idea that you're waitin for him on the other side."

Megumi frowned. "So he really planned to get better?" she turned and looked at the pale face on the pillow the heart in her chest felt full to bursting.

"Yeah. Had some great thin' planned, and i'll tell ya' all about it as soon as ya get ya ass up and outta here."

"But why leave me out of it? He knows that I wouldn't think less of him for asking for help!" The words were snapped out between clenched teeth.

Katsu shrugged his narrow shoulders. "It aint all about what ya want princess. By not bein' there, you give him somthin' to work for. Ya'll know how our boy is."

And she did. It went back to some weird self esteem black hole that Sano seemed to inhabit. To everyone around him he was a golden boy who could do no wrong. To himself, he was only as good as he was useful. It made for some very interesting lifelong friends.

Taking a deep breath, Megumi forced herself to memorise every inch of Sano she could see. Everything down to the exact shade of his pale, pale skin. It would likely be the only thing standing between her and full frontal assault of hospital staff between her and Sano.

With that bracing image, Megumi briefly leaned over his sleeping figure and pressed a quick, comforting kiss to his forehead before standing and walking past the curtained alcove to the ICU exit with Katsu trailing behind her.

Once past the ICU doors and out of the hospital entirely, Megumi threw off the off the coat and turn around to face Katsu and waited with arms crossed for an explanation.

For a second the dark haired man fidgeted then he began to talk. "I don't really know where ta' start. I mean Sano's been actin real weird lately. We always knew he did stuff recreationally. I mean only when he'd hit a dead wall with his beats, and even then only a little. I know little kids who do more than him. But then a couple'o months ago he started coming up for work dead tired. Drained like he'd already done a gig and what rocked up was the husk. When the club owners started complaining, Sano started with the more hardcore stuff. It was ok at first, but he needed more and more ta' keep it up."

" We started freaking out and asked him what he was doin' but he never said. He only kept sayin' that he had plans ta' go in for an upgrade and some dude names Seta was helpin' him out. I looked Seta up, the dude's like an epic producer. He's got some big names under his belt and his latest sign on is none other than our Rooster Head."

Megumi's brow arched. "You mean he scored a record deal? But why keep it so secret? He's been eyeing one for years."

Katsu threw her a smirk. "See that's where this Seta chap comes in. As far as I know, Seta doesn' sign on Dj's. He's reall old school; Vocals and instruments only. He isn't too picky about the kinda music but he goes apeshit when anyone brings in even a synth. "

"You mean, Sano as a singer?"

Katsu grinned. "Bingo miss. Could ya' even imagine? I've never heard him so much as hum. But the producer dude is one of the best in the biz, so Sano would have had to be awesome."

Megumi bit her lip her mind curling back to a time years and years ago when as a child she had watched Sano play on a battered guitar as he sang whatever song crossed his mind at the time. With a sad smile Megumi looked at her thin, elegant fingers and remembered how it felt to have his

rough hands around her own as he tried to teach her the cords of a guitar.

"He is."

"Huh? Who is?"

Megumi licked her suddenly dry lips. "Sano. He is very good. He used to play for me when we were in the foster house. Our foster mother was the hippy type, believed in music therapy and tried to get all us kids to play. Whenever he played we would all just stop to listen, all seven of us. It was also how he used to get me to eat. Whenever I threw a tantrum, he would promise to play a song just for me if I ate. I always did."

Katsu whistled. "Damn. I didn't know Sano and ya' were in foster care together. I mean I knew Sano was, but not ya'. So that's how ya'll met? How old were ya?"

Megumi shrugged. "I didn't want pity and Sano respected my choice. We met when I was 14. He was transferred out about a year a so later, but we always kept in touch. I sent in my application into medical school on the condition that he would get off his fat ass and get a proper job." Megumi let off a small sad smile. "He did his first gig the week my scholarship was confirmed. He said that being a DJ was entirely a proper occupation."

The lanky man shook his head. "Damn. Ya' both have _history_. Some of the other cats, used ta' wonder what ya' hooked up with him. I mean, not sayin anythin' about ya' as such. But ya' know, you're the proper sort of lady-type and Sano is ...well Sano. It didn't seem ta' match. When we asked him about it, he said that it was because ya' made him aim high and were't afraid to smack him around the head till he got there. It didn't make sense then, but I think I can figure it out a little now."

Megumi swallowed back tears at the words. It was such a Sano-type statement; Utterly artless but more heartfelt than a billion hallmark cards.

Megumi let out a sigh and ran a weary hand through her hair. The mix of adrenalin crash from her flawless sneak and emotional burn out from all this information left her feeling tired to the core.

"Tell Sano, when he wakes up, that I'll be waiting for him, but tell him that he has a deadline. Take too long, and I'll haul ass and start with the head-smacking, ok?"

With a feigned salute Katsu nodded. "Rodger captain!"

" Now you better take good care of him Katsu or I will hunt you down and do things to your body that five years of my Medical Degree covered on the topic on excruciating pain. Kapish?"

Katsu swallowed and shot off a nervous smile. "Loud and clear Madam. Loud and clear."

"Good."

From the depths of Megumi's handbag her phone began to chime.

* * *

When the incessant ringing started just about half-an hour after she had finally slipped into sleep, Misao's hand was already on her phone and her finger blindly pressed onto the green accept call button.

"Fuck you. Fuck you with all the unholy beasts of the devils own bleeding herd. Fuck you with every cactus plant in every desert in every country. Fuck you to fucking death! I just got to sleep. Just, as in five minutes ago. If you cannot figure out what bedtime is for the rest of the world take a look out of your window. If it's dark, all the normal people on earth are going to bed. Leave me alone!" With a swift press of a button, Misao killed the call and stuffed her head under her dawn feather pillow.

The ringing started up again. Misao ignored it, still tasting the lingering sleep in her mind she desperately clung to her bed in the hopes that it would come back. But the ringing kept her attention, pulling her further and further away from sleep. Giving up sleep as a lost cause, Misao finally cracked opened an eyelid and answered the phone.

"What."

"Misao, you need to come outside. Now."

The serious steel of Kamitari's voice had Misao bolting up in bed. "What? What happened? What's the emergency?"

There was a slight pause before the answer. "Its...something you have to see for yourself. Come downstairs. I'm outside."

Sleep, well and truly a thing of the past, Misao stumbled her way downstairs, taking some pains to quietly slip past both Kaoru's and Megumi's rooms. The two women had work tomorrow-er- today.

Slipping out the door, Misao caught site of a beautiful stretch limo waiting for her with a door wide open. Used to Kamitari's seemingly endless line of vehicles, Misao slipped into the car without question.

Kamitari was sitting at the other end of the vehicle from the open door. Dressed in an exquisite, burning crimson chong sam, and made up to the nines, it was clear that he had only just left some sort of gala dinner. Beside him in her ratty pyjamas and paint still staining her fingers, Misao felt thoroughly outclassed.

The frown on his beautiful face one the other hand worried her. Kamitari didn't frown unnecessarily, so when he did, it usually was for a real whopper.

"What happened?"

Kamitari met her questioning gaze with shadowed eyes. "What I'm going to show you is highly, highly confidential. You cannot share this with anyone, anyone at all. Do you understand?"

Nervous, Misao nodded.

Wordlessly he handed over what looked to be a thin magazine. The cover identified it as one of the more popular monthly gossip rags in the city. Its cover was branded with the usual suspects of sex and fashion tips peppered by celebrity gossip. One glance at the date brought Misao to a stop.

"Tari, this is next month's copy."

Kamitari nodded. "Page six. The article on the lower right hand corner."

With her stomach inexplicably in her throat, Misao did as she was told. The page was designed to look like an artless collection of news snippets.

The picture on the right hand corner made her gasp. It was Aoshi. Aoshi dressed up to the nines in a stunningly cut suit and tie. His face was impassive as ever, but his arm was around the waist of a beautiful blond woman with the curves of a supermodel in a dress made up of what looked like carefully placed tissue paper.

In disbelief, Misao ran her eyes through the attached article.

**Takemoto Party Princess Finally Settling Down?**

Guess who was seen at the grand opening of the hottest new restaurant in town with a new Beau in tow?

Leia Takemoto has left a long list of broken hearts in her past but now seems to have her eye set on a new boy toy. This one from her own father's office no less! Shinimori Aoshi (29) was seen on the arm of our princess and didn't leave her side the whole evening. Mr Shinimori is well known as one of the best criminal lawyers in our city and not at all lacking in the looks department either!

The couple had a lingering dinner before getting into the same car and driving off to parts unknown. A patron at the restaurant stated that the couple looked very cosy and very much in love. "You could nearly see the steam between them" she was quoted as saying. A source close to the princess has stated that her father, Mr Takemoto, is very hopeful for the match and has only the highest regards for Mr Shinimori.

Wedding bells anyone?

She couldn't believe it, so she read the article again, and when it didn't make sense the second time she stared at the picture carefully. It couldn't be Aoshi could it? The man hated French food, he hated the paparazzi and the last time she spoke to her about Leia it was to call her a blond haired harridan with all the intelligence of a scraped coconut.

"W-when was this taken?" Misao asked, her eyes still stapled to the seemingly impossible picture.

Kamitari bit his lip in an uncharacteristic show of discomfort. "Two nights ago. And before you ask, I've had all the details confirmed. It was him, he paid for dinner and the two of them left together. I've tried to find out where they ended up, or if they ended up together at all, but so far there's been nothing.

It should have struck her hard. Not three weeks apart and Aoshi was off gallivanting in public with his boss's daughter. A corner of her mind whispered that this was what he was waiting for, a chance to score not only a partnership but also essentially inherit the whole firm. It was an ugly thought, but remembering him the last time they argued, she couldn't find it in her heart to deny it entirely.

She waited for the blow to strike in her chest, the very same hit that had left her breathless that night she walked out of their home.

It never came.

She stared at the picture till her vision when damp, till she felt the wet streaks of tears creep down her cheek, till her throat felt choked with burning air. But in her chest, in her heart of hearts, she felt nothing. It was as though her body and her heart had become two different people and only one of them felt anything at all.

"Oh, baby girl." And suddenly Misao was enveloped in a hug laced with the soft touch of silk and the dark scent of opium.

Kamitari rocked her back and forth gently, pressing Misao's face into his silk encased shoulder and whispered comforting words into her hair.

"I'm sorry darling. So sorry. He doesn't disserve you, not one inch. Don't you worry baby, he'll pay. I'll see to it. Oh yes, he'll pay dearly-"

"NO!" Misao cut into Kamitari's increasingly gritty monolog, fear choking her words. "Don't hurt him. Don't do anything to him. I don't want him in my life anymore." Desperately, Misao clenched her hand into Kamitari's shoulder. "You're mine. You're a part of my life that he can't touch. Please, please don't take that away from me."

Kamitari's eyes took on a suspicious sheen. "Fine." The transvestite swallowed thickly. "Ok. I won't become infected by that bastard's stupid germs." Gently, Kamitari ran a long nailed hand through Misao's mused hair. "But now we've got a point to prove now, love. We won't sink to his level sweetheart, I promise we won't. We won't need to." Suddenly, the man's eyes darkened and sharpened to steel points. "But he is going to rue the day he pissed me off. No one messes with my girl. No one. And I will hit him hard where it will hurt him most. "

Calmer now, Misao dropped her head back onto Kamitari's waiting shoulder. She didn't want to think about why his quest for revenge against Aoshi put such a knife of fear in her gut. Kamitari was more than capable of cruel, cold, revenge the like of which the local mob was famous for. But the idea of Aoshi dead or hurting didn't sit well with her.

Stubbornly, Misao ignored the twinges in her heart as the ghosts of phantom pain, reminding herself vindictively, that whatever lingering feeling she had, it too shall pass.

* * *

Kaoru was floating in a gastronomical heaven. Her impulsive decision to hire Yahiko was quite likely a stroke of genius brought on by godly intervention. The boy was a child prodigy. He could fry, steam, bake, grill and sauté some of the most gorgeous things out of the most uninspiring ingredients. In three weeks, Misao had offered him her immortal soul over a bowl of perfectly done Tom Yam Soup, Megumi –a legendary food picker— was actually eating the normal human amount of any meal and Kaoru's house felt lighter and happier than it had in years.

All this from a boy who had burst out laughing the first time he saw her charred pots and had no qualms about flinging kitchen utensils at anyone who attempted to pinch any of the ingredients before he served them.

In simple words, he fit right in with the crazies already living there.

Sitting in her seldom used car, Kaoru parked close to the high school entrance and waited for Yahiko to appear. It was usually Megumi's job to pick him up after school, it was just on her way back from work, but an emergency call from her earlier today changed that plan.

Kaoru dully watched the young kids walk by with some amount of amusement. You knew you were getting old when you felt the urge to step out of your car and pull a girl's skirt down lower on her hips so as not to flash such a ludicrous amount of naked leg. Honestly, some of these short shorts were flashing underwear both above_ and_ below the pant line.

A light tapping against glass drew Kaoru from her wondering thoughts. Right next to her passenger window was a timid looking girl whose bangs all but obscured her eyes. She was holding a very thick chemistry book tight against her chest as though it were a replacement for a teddy bear. Kaoru had a sudden and inexplicable urge to pat her head and coo.

With a flick of her finger Kaoru lowered her passenger side window. "Can I help you?"

The girl's mouth opened several times before he voice finally came out "S-s-so sorry to d-d-disturb you. But are you Miss K-k-Kamiya?"

Somehow the stuttering just completed the cuteness package. "Yes Dear. May I know who's asking?"

Behind her bangs, the girls eyes widened revealing large buttery brown irises. A creeping streak of red covered both her cheeks. "S-s-s-sorry! I-i-I'm Tsubame, Yahiko's c-c-classmate. He a-a-asked me to g-g-give you a message. He won't b-be able to come to w-w-work today."

Classmate Kaoru's calloused foot. For all her stuttering she could say Yahiko's name with no problem. Hum, perhaps this cutie here had a bit of a thing for aggravating, impolite chefs.

"Did he say why?"

Tsubame bit her lip and looked troubled for a bit. "He d-d-didn't tell me anything in p-particular. B-but I think it h-had something to do with his m-mother."

Frowning a little, Kaoru tried to remember if Yahiko ever mentioned anything about his mother. "His mother?"

Biting her lip the girl nodded "S-she's been in h-hospital for a while. I-I don't think s-she's been d-doing too good l-lately though. The principal c-called him out of c-class and spoke to him. He o-only came back long e-enough t-to tell me to pass on t-the message."

Unbidden an image of those puckered white scars on his back filtered back into her mind. It could be perfectly harmless, really it could. But it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Tsubame. Is there something going on with Yahiko that I need to know about? He avoids talking about his family, so if he's in trouble I need you to tell me."

The girl seemed to actually be squirming as though the words were racing around in her head with force enough to cause whiplash. She bit her lip again and then something flickered in her eyes before settling onto a resolve.

"His father is not a good man." Her stutter had all but died. "If anything happens to his mother, Yahiko cannot return to his f-father. I-i-It isn't safe for him. If you can help him at all, please, please take him away from that m-m-man."

And there it was. I had dodged the bruises on his arms as a part of our gym training, ignored his burn marks as chicken pocks, justified his underweight body as a part of puberty, but now I had this sweet trembling girl tell me that Yahiko was being abused by his father. The guilt was a bat at full force to the chest.

"Where is he? Do you know?"

Her watery brown eye lit up with hope and for an instance this little mouse looked like a radiant goddess. "M-Memorial. His mother is in the Memorial Hospital. I think the p-principal dropped him there about three hours ago."

Memorial hospital. For a second Kaoru swore she could feel the hand of guilt ease under the radiant force of sheer luck. Megumi worked in the Memorial. She had significant clout in the inner workings of the place. And if all went to hell, having a Doctor there that Yahiko trusted who, if needed, could verify abuse.

Her hand was already grabbing her handphone when Tsubame squeaked up. "U-uh Miss. Would y-you mind s-sending m-m-me there too? I w-was going to take the b-bus there anyway. I-I-I'm really worried about Yahiko."

She eyed the girl, a reprimand at the tip of her tongue about not getting into cars with strangers, but she honestly had bigger things to worry about. Plus having Yahiko's potential crush there . "Sure Tsubame, get in."

The girl was in the car and buckled up faster than Kaoru could say pumpernickel.

With a trembling finger, Kaoru hit the speed dial that would get her Megumi. If there was any time in her life that she was grateful to have workaholic friends, today was it.

Saying that Megumi was appalled by her discovery about Yahiko's background was a severe understatement. The woman hissed out some choice curses before telling Kaoru that she'd get the patient details and meet her at the nurse's station.

Along the course of the brief drive, Kaoru discovered that Yahiko and Tsubame had been best friends since kindergarten and that the boy picked up cooking as a means to get his mother to eat more but found an instinctive passion for it.

When they arrived at the hospital, they met a harassed and windblown looking Megumi who herself only just arrived.

"I thought you were working late today?"

Megumi pressed her lips together tightly. "I was on my way back when I got your call. Give me a second to have a chat with the nurses in admissions. What was his last name again?"

"Myogin. His full n-name is Myogin Yahiko."

Megumi glanced at the tiny girl next to Kaoru with an arched brow and looked back at Kaoru in question.

"Yahiko's potential girlfriend. Don't ask." Koaru explained.

Tsubame let out a squeak and hid her blushing face behind her book.

Megumi looked down at the blushing girl. "Let's hope you can talk some sense into him then, because if I know anything at all, I know Yahiko is the troublesome sort. " Megumi then marched her way into the building with Kaoru and Tsubame only barely trailing on behind her.


End file.
